


Reconciliation

by wargoddess



Series: Alliance [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Incest, M/M, Rival Sex, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-29
Updated: 2005-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/pseuds/wargoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set chronologically before the events that would've occurred in DMC3. Dante and Vergil have been enemies for years, but they maintain an unspoken truce for one reason only.  This time, however, Dante is walking into Vergil's most dangerous trap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconciliation

**Author's Note:**

> The "underage" tag is a reference to something that happened in the past. See "Dissolution" for more of that.

Silence. The biting cold of midwinter. Night air so crisp that it tasted of metal.

Time to get this over with, Dante decided.

He started down the trail into the valley, all his senses hyperalert. Nothing attacked him, though he felt the pressure of hungry gazes against his skin. Vergil had ordered the demons to let him through; that could mean anything. An invitation. A trap. Both. He tried not to think about it, tried to keep himself from compulsively stroking the hilt of his sword. A breeze blew past and brought with it the scent of blood. Some forest animal, killed by the demons as food, and fantasy. Perhaps they painted themselves with the creature's blood, imagining that it was his. Perhaps they stroked themselves over the carcass, hungering for a different sort of satisfaction but forced to take what they could get.

Dante understood. Oh, how he understood.

The castle rose out of the forest, magnificent, a perfect complement for the skeletal trees and stark moonlight. The gate was up, the great metal doors open, the torches lit. No one about. No welcoming committee, good or bad. He paused on the threshold, debating with himself one last time. There were other ways. Even the odd demon that could be sufficiently cowed; he wasn't picky. There was nothing here in this castle that he couldn't get elsewhere. Right?

Right?

Softly, bitterly, he laughed to himself. Then he started into the castle.

Through the empty corridors, up the winding stairs; he knew the way. It did not take long for him to reach the throne room. Here again he stopped, putting his hands on the wooden doors but not pushing them open. There was still time. He could still change his mind. Until he crossed the threshold, committed himself to the choice, he could back out with no penalty or fear of ridicule. Honor was important to Vergil. They both respected the unspoken rules.

Sighing in resignation, he pushed the doors open and walked inside.

Two great hulking creatures flanked the steps -- one a huge goat with wings, the other a sinuous, reptilian canine. The latter hissed as he entered, but did not attack. Rules. Dante kept his hand on his sword and turned to pay his respects to the ruler of the castle.

At the top of the steps: he sprawled on the throne like a prince of old, resplendent in blue, his eyes chips of mica in the gloom.

"Dante," said Vergil. Dante suppressed a shiver as the rich, cold voice echoed through the chamber.

"Vergil," Dante replied. He was hollow with need. He was miserable and weighed down with shame. "You know why I'm here."

The prince nodded slowly. "Five years this time. You've never waited so long before." He sat up, his smile cruel. "Have you been trying to rid yourself of me, Dante?"

"Wouldn't you, if you could?" Dante extended his arms out from his sides and dropped them wearily. "Obviously I failed. Let's get this over with."

Vergil's smile faded. "Perhaps I don't like being kept waiting, Dante. Perhaps I don't want *you* this time." His eyes flicked left, right. The goat-demon and the dog-snake shifted into attack stances, their eyes gleaming.

Dante ignored the demons and glared up the steps. "That's bullshit, Vergil. But if you want me to kill your two best pet demons as foreplay, fine." He unsheathed his sword and rested it on one shoulder.

Vergil abruptly bared his teeth. He'd been spending too many years among the demons, Dante thought idly; he no longer bothered to hide the feral side of his nature. That was even more clear as Vergil rose from the throne, stalking down the steps like a panther, all grace and lust and tightly-contained rage.

Magnificent, Dante thought in spite of himself, and experienced a gleeful shiver.

Vergil gestured sharply at the guardian demons; they vanished with a speed that suggested they had been destroyed, not simply banished. No one in the chamber but the two of them. Good. Dante kept his sword ready, though, in case Vergil had another kind of foreplay in mind. He remembered the last time they'd gone at it, fighting in demon-form until Dante had let Vergil pin him and then Vergil had --

Vergil stopped before him. The throne room was silent but for the sounds of their breath -- in unison, of course. When they were near each other it was always like this.

"Who have you been with this time, Dante?" Vergil said, his voice soft. Dante shivered again. Vergil soft was even worse than Vergil cold and angry. Vergil soft was Vergil seductive -- Vergil at his most dangerous. "Who have you been using to try and forget me, hmm?"

No one who mattered. The faces of several dozen lovers flickered through Dante's mind. The demons had been best; he'd vented the worst of his need on them, consuming them with careless violence that they'd enjoyed and returned. But through it all, the underlying need was still there. That never faded. He didn't answer, and after a long moment Vergil smiled.

"Come," Vergil said, turning and walking away. His back was unprotected against an attack, but Dante smiled ruefully to himself. They both knew Dante wouldn't attack. Not now, when Vergil was walking toward the bedchamber behind the throne room.

Sheathing his sword, Dante followed.

The bedchamber. Opulence and sensuality blended in the decor: polished mahogany bedposts and silk hangings; mirrors; wrist-chains dangling from a hook set into the wall. Oh yes. There were other chains in the room, Dante knew, scattered about; chains and other things. Some of them had Dante's blood and flesh ground into the old metal. Vergil was hard on his toys.

So very, very hard. Dante stopped just inside the threshold of the room, closing his eyes and trying not to visibly pant.

"Five years," Vergil said again. The words startled Dante. Usually, once the door was closed, there were no words. Blows and snarls and pain/pleasure; no room left for words amid that.

He opened his eyes and focused on Vergil, with an effort.

Vergil stood near the window, removing his gloves. The sight of Vergil's hands -- pale, soft, so deceptively human -- went straight to Dante's groin. So very, very hard. _I want to show you something, Dante. You'll like it. Turn over._

"I'm surprised you managed to go so long, even with the help of... whatever you've been with," Vergil said. He set his gloves down; reached up to remove his cloak. This he folded neatly, slowly, before setting it down. "I'm impressed."

 _Yes yes fine impressive hurry up._

"Been a long five years for you too, has it?" Dante asked. The words would anger Vergil and goad him past this slow, contemplative mood he was in. Then there would be bliss and agony and glorious union.

Vergil turned to him. The chamber was dim, but Dante's night-sight had kicked in; he saw Vergil's face easily in the gloom. What he saw startled and confused him, for there was none of Vergil's usual coldness or anger there. Now he was solemn, intent.

"Yes, it has been," he said. Then he opened his waistcoat; set that aside; undid the laces of his shirt and pulled it open to bare his beautiful, muscled chest. Dante could not have said what shocked him more -- that Vergil admitted his own need, or that Vergil meant to remove his clothing this time. It had been years since he'd seen Vergil's naked flesh. Usually it was just the table, the front laces of Vergil's breeches torn open, Dante's own trousers sliced or ripped at the back.

 _Something's wrong here,_ he thought.

Vergil smiled as if hearing Dante's thought. He removed his shirt and draped it over a nearby chair, then stepped out of his boots. "Aren't you going to get undressed?" He stood hipshot, cold raw sensuality outlined in moonlight.

Dante could not speak. Too much confusion, too much lust. He stared at Vergil's torso, a perfect mirror of his own. No, not perfect -- Vergil didn't have the faint scar under Dante's solar plexus, where his katana had once run Dante through. No one else left a scar like Vergil.

 _It hurts. I want him so much, it actually hurts --_

Vergil's teeth flashed in silhouette; another smile. "Then I'll have to undress you myself." He came over and reached for Dante's throat. Dante stiffened, the instinct for self-preservation warring against the lust for a moment, but before the battle was settled Vergil was undoing the breastband that held Dante's coat in place. He pushed it back and off Dante's shoulders -- Dante hadn't bothered with a shirt -- letting it fall to the floor. No careful folding here; he knew Dante didn't care. Then he hooked fingers over Dante's pants and pulled them down, deftly freeing Dante's hovering erection but not touching it otherwise, fingertips caressing the lines of Dante's thighs and calves as they moved down.

Dante stood still, in a daze, not lifting his arms to help, stepping out of his boots only when Vergil forced the issue by lifting each of his feet. _Now,_ he thought -- kept thinking. Now Vergil would show his true nature and throw Dante over the nearest piece of furniture. Now would come the chains, the claws, the brutality. _Now, please._

Then Vergil kissed him.

Dante stood there, his eyes widening as Vergil's mouth played gently with his, coaxing his lips to respond, tilting both their heads for easier access. _What is this?_ Vergil's hands came up to his shoulders; caressed them; slid down his back and buttocks, pulling him close. _What **is** this?_

When Vergil's mouth moved down his neck, planting a kiss on the curve of one shoulder, Dante finally found his mind and shoved Vergil back.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snarled.

Vergil stayed where Dante had pushed him, chest pressed against Dante's palms. "What I please, Dante. That's what I've always done with you, haven't I?"

"Not like this. You're never like this."

Vergil smiled, and in it was an echo of the cruelty that Dante had known all his life. And something more. "I'm not predictable either, little brother. You should know that by now. If you come here, to my castle, to my bed, then you play by my rules. It's that simple."

It was true, but Dante kept his hands up anyhow, trying to think past the lust, trying not to notice the lingering heat where Vergil's lips had been on his skin, trying to see the trap in this. But when Vergil's hands rose to take his own, he did not resist. He let Vergil pull his hands out of the way. But instead of stepping close again, Vergil turned, keeping hold of Dante's hands, and went to the bed. Dante followed, frowning as Vergil flicked the sheets back, but then allowed Vergil to push him down into the bed. A moment later Vergil was beside him beneath the sheets; they lay side by side, facing one another.

They had not done this in decades, Dante realized. Not since they were children -- teenagers, really, but still children in spirit. They had been touching one another for years at that point, satisfying burgeoning demon desires with hands and mouths and quick furtive rubbing beneath the sheets of the bed they had shared in those years of poverty after Sparda's death...

Vergil pulled him close, cupping the back of his head, and kissed him again -- a series of kisses this time, each tasting his lips a different way, each soft and warm; a tease. It was impossible to resist such kisses. Dante shivered and closed his eyes, letting Vergil press closer and push him onto his back, letting Vergil's hands move down his body. When Vergil's mouth followed, nibbling at Dante's collarbones and then licking a trail down his torso, Dante caught his breath and began to tremble, for he had at last figured out the trap. Tenderness; he had no defense against it. The demon in him was strong enough to bear violence -- more than strong enough. It reveled in pain, gaining strength from it. But this... this slow seduction, this careful devouring, what could he do against this? He was helpless, craving everything that Vergil did to him, horrified by his body's betrayal. If Vergil wanted to rip his heart out now, he would lie there and let it happen.

Was that what Vergil was about? He wondered it in the tiny corner of his brain that could still think as Vergil's mouth did magnificent, creative things between his legs, leaving him gasping. He wondered it as Vergil turned him over and oiled him -- oiled him! As if he actually cared whether Dante suffered or bled! -- and then penetrated him in careful, gradually deepening intrusions. Dante whimpered as the first exploratory probes became regular visitors, then a steady commerce of back and forth, in and out, deep and shallow. He clutched at the sheets, wanting to weep as his body rocked. When Vergil wrapped arms around him from behind and moaned into his ear, Dante _did_ weep, because it had been years since Vergil had pleasured him like this and it was what his body craved more than anything else. Had always craved, ever since the first time Vergil had taught him this sweetness, before the differences between them had become insurmountable and only anger remained of their love, only lust as residue of their closeness. He had never dreamed of having this again. There had been too many other, harsher times; he'd thought this part of Vergil was dead forever.

And that was the greatest cruelty of all, he realized. Perfect, wicked Vergil, holding this weapon until now.

Vergil reached under him and caressed the length of him in slow, torturous strokes. "Do you remember?" he whispered into Dante's ear. "The first time I was inside you. I thought I would die, you felt so good." He stretched up, licked at the tear trailing from Dante's eye. "You cried then, too. But never since."

Ashamed, hating himself, Dante turned his face into the pillow.

"You still love me, don't you, Dante?" Was there a smile in Vergil's voice? No. Just that terrible solemnity, with no hint of mockery. Mockery Dante could have dealt with. Sincerity tore at him like knives. "Even now, after all that's gone between us. Not just this." Amid the rolling rhythm he squeezed, gently; Dante gasped. " _Me._ "

Sincerity he had no defense against. "S-stop it, Vergil."

Teeth nibbled his ear, sending electricity down his spine. "It's just a question, Dante. Why don't you answer?"

Dante pulled himself up on his elbows and gripped the sheets, shuddering in pleasure and fury. "Do you love _me_?" There. The answer would flense his heart, but it would restore his inner balance too. He would be able to hate Vergil again once he knew that Vergil hated him.

"Yes, Dante. I've always loved you."

 _Oh, God. Oh, God._

"Did you think that I didn't? You're my brother, my other half. This is why I get so angry with you. This is why we can't stay away from each other. Neither of us feels whole alone." He shifted, lifting Dante's hips higher; the sliding piercing pulsing heat was driving him mad. Dante bowed his head and moaned into the pillow, fighting the urge to beg for more.

Then Vergil sat back on his knees, pulling Dante with him; his torso pressed against Dante's back, furnace-hot. His heart was pounding in perfect unison with Dante's. He thrust up in the same rhythm, his hands making Dante's skin tingle. Like poison. The poison danced around his nipples and Dante arched foreward, begging with his body even though he kept his teeth clenched shut against further shameful moans -- or worse, words.

"You don't have to say it," Vergil whispered. "I know."

And Dante wept again, for once upon a time they had known each other so well that no words were necessary.

No words were necessary now. Vergil kept silent as he startled Dante's body into an orgasm with quick sharp thrusts, then deliberately coaxed him back to full heat. He trailed kisses down Dante's spine. He withdrew and used his fingers to keep Dante shivering while he licked every trace of Dante's seed from his belly, and sucked the last of it straight from the source. When Dante was hard and panting again he lifted Dante's legs to his shoulders and entered him once more, thrusting faster but no harder, touching him with that same terrible, gentle affection. He spoke only once more as the pleasure subsumed Dante, as Dante yielded to inevitability and pulled at Vergil's hips and arched his body to facilitate Vergil's entry, as he whimpered Vergil's name over and over in lieu of begging. That was when Vergil breathed, "Come for me, Dante," and of course Dante stiffened and gasped and tossed his head and screamed so hard that a white haze blotted out his vision for several seconds. And when the haze had passed he saw Vergil's face constrict and felt his body grow taut and heard him whisper Dante's name as something pulsed hot and hard deep within him, and at last the need that had driven him to the castle was satisfied.

They lay together afterward as they had when they were boys, when they'd loved one another without reservation and admitted it without shame, entangled and comfortable in the warmth of the bed. Vergil showed no inclination to toss him out or leave; Dante could not muster the will to do the same even though he knew it was time. He'd gotten what he wanted. What more could there be?

"Stay with me," Vergil whispered in his ear.

Ah, of course. The pain. It wasn't complete between them without that, these days.

Dante closed his eyes. "Don't do this, Vergil."

Tense silence behind him, and abruptly Dante realized why: he had not said no. Why hadn't he?

"I won't destroy the humans if you join me," Vergil said. He kissed Dante's shoulder, stroked his back. "If you stay, I won't _want_ to."

No, but he would rule them. If Dante were at his side, that was inevitable. Even if Dante made no effort to assist, it would be enough that Dante no longer actively opposed him. No one would be able to stop Vergil then.

And was that such a terrible thing? he wondered. He had suffered at the hands of humans just as Vergil had; they had both watched their mother's suffering as children. Perhaps it would do the human race good to be ruled by two strong half-demon warriors. Perhaps together they could erase poverty and wretchedness from the world, and bring to heel the greediest or stupidest humans before they could inflict their evil on everyone else. The twin sons of Sparda could certainly protect humanity against the ambitions of demon lords like Mundus. And if Vergil's patience with their subjects grew too thin, his ruling hand too oppressive, Dante would be able to temper his wrath. He could balance Vergil's ruthlessness with compassion. Counter his hatred of humanity with kindness. Vergil would never change his mind about humans, but he could be influenced. Dante was the only one in all the world that he ever listened to.

And if Dante stayed, he could have Vergil every night.

 _Vergil was right. I am weak._

He sighed and turned over and pressed closer, burying his face in the curve of his brother's neck to breathe in that scent so like his own, yet subtly different. Comforting. And though he said nothing, though Vergil was silent too, he felt triumph in the arm that Vergil folded around him. Triumph and protectiveness and possessiveness and glee. Once again, no words were necessary.

It wouldn't last. It couldn't.

But he would deal with that when the time came. The present, not the future, was all that mattered. So Dante closed his eyes, relaxed, and let himself fall asleep in his brother's arms for the first time in nearly a century. And for the first time in even longer than that, he was happy.


End file.
